


Three Times Samara Didn't Kiss Shepard & One Time She Did

by goddessofcheese



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcheese/pseuds/goddessofcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, even love unrealized, can be bittersweet. A Samara/FemShep fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Samara Didn't Kiss Shepard & One Time She Did

**I.**

Humans.

An interesting species, Samara believed. Such a young species in comparison to the rest of the Council races; even vorcha had more of a foothold in history than them. Eerily similar to asari in shape but different in enough aspects to remain alien, to remain apart. She found them curious, so new a player on the galactic stage yet already so influential.

This one, even more so.

Samara took in the commander’s features as they walked together to the ship that would carry her to these supposed Collectors. The dark armor was a stark contrast to bright eyes. A sheen of sweat and scorch marks were still evident, hinting at rough fighting less than an hour ago on Samara’s bequest. Her face was one of firm, strong features that were reminiscent of Earth art Samara had seen of gallant knights. By at least asari standards, she was not unattractive.

Her lips were lovely.

Her usually uniform thoughts paused. It wasn’t often that such an uncontrolled idea occurred to her. This human really was proving to be curious. Samara would have to see what the future held for their company.

The airlock hissed, a welcome distraction. 

* * *

 

**II.**

Emotions surged and toiled under the surface of Samara’s skin like tides in a hurricane, and no amount of meditation could wish them away. Anger, relief. Despair, satisfaction. 

Guilt… a good amount of guilt.

In the midst of her storm, Shepard was a lighthouse, guiding her out of the darkness. The human offered words of comfort, space to heal; she suspected she was also largely responsible for the lack of crew members interrupting her time alone. Samara appreciated the effort.

But the woman was temptation, one that Samara had not experienced since she’d taken her vows. Her skills in battle were unsurpassed, her morals filled with idealism not yet hampered by jaded years of regret. Thoughts that Samara had thought she had locked away the day she’d become a justicar were creeping back to her; hopes for closeness, images of soft lips and sharp eyes.

But lighthouses could hinder as much as help. Samara reminded herself not to get too close unless she risked running ashore.

* * *

 

**III.**

Their fingers were intertwined, Shepard’s free hand light along her hip. Samara hadn’t been held like this in… longer than she could recall. It was not a sensation she’d expected to ever feel again, or even desire. Her old life was behind her, Morinth’s death being its final chapter. But that was then, and this was now. And now her breath stirred free strands of the commander’s hair; soft lips were flushed with emotion, tantalizing close.

She wanted to. Goddess knew she wanted to. She could see a possible future in the commander’s eyes, one that still held promise of happier days and less lonely nights.

Samara pulled away.

She gave her reasons; the Code, her Oath. Shepard nodded in understanding. And the justicar wasn’t sure what was worse; the sense of disappointment between the two of them, or the look on Shepard’s face that said she had expected as much.

* * *

 

**IV**

Humans.

An interesting species. Faced with such disaster, so much to rebuild, yet they took a few hours away from their lives to salute one among millions who had perished.

She stood at the forefront of the gathering. Her armor of crimson and gold stood out against a sea of blacks and grays  and eyes strayed to her every few moments. But she had no eyes for any of them. Just the cold, still figure in the coffin in front of her.

Samara stepped closer and gathered her courage to look down at the woman she had once held an Oath to. The skin was paler now, features gaunt, and not everything that had been recovered of her body had come back well enough for even the morticians to repair. Her lips seemed too still and blue to belong to the Shepard she had seen only alive and whole only a week ago.

Samara remembered lips that had promised passion unending, an end to loneliness, a light at the end of her storm. She would not forget this moment, she knew, but she would remember Shepard’s face as she had known it. Not as this lifeless shell. As the commander who had led her into battle, the woman who had led her through darkness… her Shepard.

“In another time. In another life,” she murmured, repeated words from what seemed like a lifetime ago given new meaning, and kissed her friend goodbye.


End file.
